


Should You Need Me

by love_another



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, F/M, Light Angst, Post-The Battle of the Labyrinth, Queen Sarah (Labyrinth), Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_another/pseuds/love_another
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness was a funny thing. Jareth/Sarah one shot, complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should You Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hey all! This will be a fairly quick oneshot ahead, with nothing more than a kiss. Pretty kosher, right? Aha, hope that you enjoy! A review is much appreciated if you can write one out! Read on friends!

Loneliness was a funny thing.

It could be kept at bay so easily with but a single toe's immersion into your social sphere, a walk outside (through a park or the woods, through town even!); even just sticking around after school let out might've been enough to ward it off.

But such a terrible, empty feeling would always return, especially for the unfortunate Sarah Williams. Nose always in a book or magazine, she never really thought it necessary to  _look up_ , or to greet others with the same cordialities they would always grant her. Her stepmother and father worried terribly for her; there were never any sleepovers on the weekends, and it was only on the rarest of occasions that she would be asked out to dinner with friends, or to the park, or the bowling alley. But, for some silly reason, Sarah seemed not to mind.

Books were satisfying in the same way that friends could be to any other young woman who was considered "odd," or "unusual," by her peers. She preferred the company of fairy tale characters; goblins, monsters, and terribly beautiful kings would sooner play across her imagination than boys anyhow. They appealed to her with their sensual tongues and intriguing histories, their lore. She'd been swept off her feet long by these pieces of make-believe long before any other could come along and do it instead, and as said before, she seemed not to mind at all.

There were nights, however, like this one, where Sarah would be unable to fall asleep, a haunting lullaby and the image of a pallid, male figure cradling her waist while he swayed with her to it, playing over and over in her mind. She was pulled to the large bay window in her room, to rest her elbows atop the sill and stare into the thickness of the branches that lay just out of her reach. There was always a barn owl perched at one branch's edge; it tilted its head at her curiously, deep, jeweled eyes searching for some form of acknowledgement.

Now, normally she would  _not_  open the window, purse her lips in quiet sadness, and return dejectedly to bed, the loneliness being too much to bear for her small, tired frame. Tonight would yield a different outcome. An inkling suspicion in the back of her mind kept telling her that this owl and the pallid man of her dreams were one in the same. A smooth, deep voice coiled around her ears as her hands gripped the window's latch, "Sarah;  _precious_ ," her face twitched, anticipating the skipping beats of her heart; her eyes widened as she watched herself open the window, beckon to the– wait.

_Where was the owl?_

Sarah spun on her heel, eyes wide; she gulped to capacitate the lump in her throat, but to no avail. Behind her stood the same figure, tall, feminine, angular– in all of his ethereal beauty. His stare was far too piercing. It chilled her.

"Jareth," his name slipped from her lips softly, warily. He would always strike this gentle fear within her, despite her bravery just two years prior. She would still quiver at the sight of such darkness and trickery, for he was unknown. The unknown terrified Sarah Williams, and peaked her interest all the same.

Jareth sauntered forward, practiced as a danseur to hold his swan– he came within a breath of Sarah's face, tilted his head forward, into a sneer upon her shivering, doe-eyed expression. Each movement is calculated, in succession of the last. He is as pronounced as she imagined he would be, and just as quietly enraged. Her chin fell into the grasp of Jareth's thumb and index finger; his expression softened without warning, and he chose then to trade his curled lip in for a smile, barely noticed save for the tug it gave to his lips.

Sarah relaxed, slender fingers tracing the pulse line of the hand that gripped her jaw. She felt Jareth's demeanor fall then, the air opening to some form of clarity around them both. Whatever tension had been there before was gone now, and Sarah took the opportunity to look up at him, to give him a smile.

There was a pause between them, Jareth's expression giving way to concern with each moment that passed. He was scanning her for more answers than Sarah was willing to give.

"Your heart is far less silent, Sarah." His fingers fell away, trading her chin for a gentle embrace of her cheeks. Jareth cradled her face, calling to mind certain scents of lavender, cedar– the moon. They pooled at his fingertips in a pale blue light, and he massaged them into her neck.

"What does it say?" She asked; her eyelids were growing heavy.

He smiled sadly, pressing his cold cheek to her forehead, "It screams for company: true, living, breathing. It is quiet now, but I could hear it from miles and miles underground." He placed a kiss where his cheek had been, returning to her gaze in reverence. He had spent many a night locked in his study, staring down this one particular crystal– he played a lullaby for her, danced with her, sang softly into her ear. The warmth would come to this crystal most nights, and would act as a gage of satisfaction in Sarah's subconscious. The warmer it was, the better she would feel. But, on the rare nights where the ball would run _bitterly_  cold betwixt his hands, he would fly through mirrors to the world Above, to her ever-vigilant oak tree just outside her bedroom window. There he would perch, until she would come, settle on the sill for a few moments, and observe him.

This night, his hand had been frostbitten, the crystal had been so unresponsive. Jareth grew terribly fearful, angered– he cursed the stars for each moment that he could not do more, for each second that he could not respond to her silent cries for help. This night had been such that he was set up to watch her drown, and he could not  _bear_ to see her suffer any longer than he had to. He'd flown in haste to her window, perched, hooted– and now, here he was; here  _she_ was.

Sarah nuzzled into the absent caresses of Jareth's fingers, yawning softly. It took all that was within the King's might to not steal a kiss then. No, it would be her wish, and he would not want for it. She must heal, and kisses would not solve what sadness was before him. Without warning, Sarah fell limp in his arms, her breathing soft and even. She had not fainted, she had fallen asleep.

"You are exhausted,  _precious_." Jareth chuckled, bearing the weight of her small frame on his knees, setting up to carry her to her bed. He laid her gently down, settling beside her a moment to fiddle with her blankets and her hair. His fingers fell in gentle strokes over the splayed strands across her pillow. He gingerly touched the back of his palm to her jawline, traced it over and over again in admiration. He  _wished_ she would awaken– to hear him say good night; to say that he loved her, for loneliness would quell with love's gentle kiss.

A moment of silence passed, Jareth watching the slight rise and fall of her chest.

"My queen, if I might w–," Here he was caught off guard, for Sarah awoke with a hitch of her breath, rolling over to his hip to sit up, next to him.

"Mm?" Sarah's eyes were heavy,  _beautiful_.

"Good night." Jareth dares to embrace her; his hug was as cautious as his demeanor when he'd first appeared to her. He squeezes her too tightly, afraid to let go. Sarah pushed him away on her own, taking his own cheeks in to her hands then, expression softly reassuring him.

She leaned into him, placing a tender, long-awaited kiss to his lips. Jareth was stock still beneath her fingers, as was expected. Sarah smiled, for he'd been too afraid, too considerate– for  _once_. This touch sent shivers down both of their spines, a twinge of magic thrumming where Sarah's fingertips touched the Goblin King's beautifully porcelain throat. It was a tired kiss, and they fell away from it easily. Hunger and passion were far out of reach for either. Jareth stood then, giving Sarah one last scan. A lump rose to his throat; funny, he was usually far less emotional with goodbyes.

"If you should need me, Sarah," he whispered; she was falling back, onto her mattress. Her eyelids were growing heavier again–

"Jareth?" He was nearly out the window when he heard his name.

"Yes?"

"I need you."


End file.
